My disposal broke (for the fourth time in three months) last night. Because it was after hours, I tried to unclog it myself, using our plunger, which I first thoroughly disinfected with bleach. Still, it strikes me as intensely disgusting to use something in your sink that has ever (EVAR) been near poop. Yet I wonder where the maintenance peoples’ plungers have been when they come over and – glub, glub, glub – unclog my sink.
Think about that.
As the sink backs up with apple, noodles and an unidentified black grime, I began to panic, plunging frantically. I also have noticed that when I’m uncomfortable, I make strange noises. This is both disturbing because: A) It’s not a pretty noise and B) I’m not sure how often I make aforementioned noise.
I call the apartment office maintenance line. It goes like kinda like this:
Thank you for calling [shittiest apartment in the wuuuuurld]’s maintanance line. If this is not an emergency, please call during normal business hours.
Hahahaha. Fuck off.
If you have a maintanence emergency, press two.
Leave a message after the tone with your name, a number at which you can be reached, your apartment number and the nature of the problem. If this is not an emergency, please press 1.
Oh, I hate you assholes so hard.
An emergency is defined as a direct threat to people or property.
The water is ruining my serenity.
Emergencies include air or heating units not working, a broken window or broken door.
If you do not have an emergency, please press 1. Otherwise, leave a message and someone will return your call.
I left a message. I railed, but I didn’t curse. Much. And I’m getting a new disposal tomorrow. Life lesson: If you act like it’s an emergency, people will think you’re crazy enough to treat it like an emergency.